The Summer flickers into the year with lingering regrets;
A medley of melted marshmallows and perfume laced bug sprays.
It’s not a storm like the Spring, raging in, forcing growth and change, no.
Summer stumbles with no direction, as if lost in all this sunlight,
As if the added hours of daytime and sweltering drafts have incited a lethargy
That takes a provenance in refuse cartilage of swollen anatomies.